The Accursed's Madness
by TheAsset6
Summary: Ardyn Izunia only ever wanted one thing. After two thousand years of waiting, he finally has it. It is not enough. [Part seven of "Deleted Scenes and Broken Dreams" Addendum Series]
1. Brothers

**A/N: This is the seventh in a series of stories designed to fill in the holes of the XV plot. As such, and as far as I could make it, this series is canon-compliant. Footnotes are available on the AO3 version explaining certain plot decisions and references. It is useful to note here that the "Ardyn was both Oracle and Chosen King, and the Astrals only make them two people afterwards" idea is a fan theory, not canon. The official game guide indicates that for as long as the Scourge existed, there was a Chosen King to end it and an Oracle to heal the people, the former being the king of Lucis (at the time, Ardyn) and the latter being the matriarch of the Fleuret family. The idea that Ardyn was both is a fan theory that has gained a lot of traction as being canon for some reason, so I just wanted to clarify as that will be a major part of this story. Enjoy!**

Chapter One: Brothers

 _The vast expanse of Lucis spread as far as the eye could see. It was an impressive kingdom, arguably the largest and most affluent in all of Eos, not that the others would agree. Yet within the borders of Insomnia, the Crown City of Lucis, was the finest civilization mankind was capable of creating. In deference to the gods and in honor of their leader, all buildings were constructed with white stone that reflected the sun's rays so that the light emanating from the city was almost more potent, more radiant than that of their beloved star. There was also no mistaking the architecture for anything other than that of the most skilled experts in the kingdom: robust, sharply angled lower levels with more artistically crafted upper floors. The result on the ground was the breathtaking display of animated shadows, never the same in one moment as in the next. Networks of roads formed with grey paving stones passed through it all so that citizens and honored guests alike could marvel at the sights and sounds of the island city. Each street bore a different view, but never was there a risk of losing one's place when the Citadel stretched towards the sky high above it all to mark their way._

 _Oh, the Citadel. If Insomnia was the Crown City, then the Citadel had to be the crown jewel at the very heart of the kingdom. Whatever masterpieces could be found in the hustle and bustle of daily life below, the home of the royal family was at once more extravagant, more exquisite, and more miraculous by far. Built at the center of the city atop the island's highest plateau, no building in the surrounding region reached even a quarter of its size. None could begin to comprehend how long it had taken to construct such a majestic work of architecture. The Citadel itself was frequently said to be so tall that only the gods could reside in the upper levels, but such nonsense was a fabrication of the mind. Humans had created it, and therein they resided. White as pure light, the exterior was inlaid with sparkling windows on each of the countless floors. What was assumed to be the original building leveled off halfway, and four magnificent blunted spires rose at its corners instead; four buttresses connected them at the center of it all, right above where it was rumored the king's Crystal protected the kingdom from on high._

 _From such a lofty perch, one could view half the kingdom with the knowledge that the rest was not far beyond the sloping curve of the horizon. On the ground, the Citadel was surrounded by a circular barrier containing all necessary offices under the king's purview, but it did little to keep out the citizens they ruled over. It wasn't meant to: such a vast center of the government tasked with their protection from the dangers of the outside world was open to all, and all came at one time or other. Whether it was from the surrounding urbanized sprawl or the farms that supplied the whole of Insomnia with food on the other side, whether it was the lands just across the bridge or the volcanic mountain of the Infernian's sepulcher far away, they made the pilgrimage to see the Citadel and their king._

 _And such a regal king he was. That even gait, the way he walked as though floating on some unseen cloud, his broad shoulders angled casually back reflected the significance of his station to all who did not know him. His gracefully windswept red-violet hair framed his face in gentle waves, lending deeper color to his eyes, subtle contours to the set of his cheeks, and the assurance that none who looked upon him would ever forget._

 _Never, in all their years, would they again see Ardyn Lucis Caelum and know not who he was._

 _Many had already been gifted with the opportunity to bow before their king after he ascended the throne, the Chosen King of the Crystal, and many more flowed through the gates to do so each day. None left without an audience; it was one promise which Ardyn was adamant to uphold._

 _This day, however, was one of solitude. As he stood at the window beside his throne and looked down at the city he had always called home, there was no line of adoring citizens awaiting entry and the room behind him stood empty. Loyal and accommodating as his guards were, there had been no convincing them to open the Citadel gates in light of the danger that had finally reached their very doorstep._

 _The Starscourge, it seemed, had come to Insomnia at last._

 _Reports of the disease had spread rapidly through the various communication networks connecting the kingdoms of Eos. A plague of sorts, one which devoured both life and light in equal measures. They mentioned beasts, although not the sort whose carcasses warranted an admirable bounty. Instead the reports spoke of monstrous creatures born from the same darkness as the scourge, daemons of unknown origin and even more mysterious nature._

 _Until today, no such monsters or illness had plagued the Crown City. A few small towns had notified the Citadel of similar suffering, but the scouts Ardyn had sent to investigate returned with nothing. Quite literally, there had been no sign of either life or plague when they had arrived at their designated destination; all those who reported on the illness were gone, their homes left empty and their fields untilled. There were no bodies, yet neither were there any indications that the inhabitants had fled. It was truly a mystery._

 _One, it appeared, that would now be solved in the very place no one would have expected. Ardyn wished that he could be surprised by such a pitiable turn of events, but he could not feign ignorance. For years he had been aware of his destiny, of the Crystal's choice and the Astrals' acceptance that he would be the one to save the world from a terrible fate. That was the purpose of the Chosen King and, by extension, the Oracle: to ensure mankind's survival at whatever cost. Ardyn had never met his counterpart, a woman of the Fleuret clan if he remembered correctly, but with the Crystal safely tucked away in the labyrinth of the Citadel and the Ring of the Lucii firmly fitted to his finger, he was confident he would be able to stem what he now believed to be the scourge wrought upon mankind for the Infernian's treachery._

 _Or he_ would _be able to if his guards didn't insist on keeping him sequestered in the throne room, removed from the potential of infection._

 _As if the thought itself were a summons, Ardyn heard the chamber's heavy doors opening and closing but did not turn to greet the new arrival. Doubtless it was yet another of his faithful yet stupid retainers coming to inform him of the current situation in Insomnia._

 _"Surveying your kingdom, I see," a familiar voice lilted._

What a surprise.

 _Ardyn turned with a wry smirk. "What else can an imprisoned king do, little brother?"_

 _Scoffing, his brother ascended the steps until he was standing on the landing below and sighed, "You are hardly_ imprisoned _, Ardyn. Surely, you must see the reason—"_

 _"In keeping me from my people when their need is most dire?" Now it was Ardyn's turn to chuckle, though there wasn't an ounce of humor in the sound. "Quite reasonable indeed."_

 _"The reason in wishing to keep our king_ alive _," his brother corrected him with a glare reminiscent of their father. So many of his characteristics appeared to have been inherited from the patriarch of their line—his slight stature, his unruly jet black hair, his grey-blue eyes. What Ardyn lacked in resemblance to the rest of their shared family had been doubly gifted to his brother instead, yet another reason why his visage was unforgettable to his subjects: never had they witnessed anyone like him._

 _"I doubt the Crystal would be so quick to abandon me," Ardyn reminded him, shifting his gaze back out the window at the setting sun painting his city a bloody, foreboding red. There were footsteps behind him before a presence appeared at his side. When his brother spoke again, it was with a softer cadence he had rarely used since they were children._

 _"The Crystal is not infallible, nor the gods who have tasked us with its protection."_

 _"Us?"_

 _A pause. "_ You _may have been chosen as the Crystal's champion, but its safety has been entrusted to our entire line."_

 _"A successful endeavor, to be sure."_

 _"Thus far."_

 _His words trailed off into silence, and the brothers stood staring out the window companionably despite the tension stretching between the two. Hadn't it always been like this? Hadn't his younger brother forever wandered through life in Ardyn's shadow? Perhaps that was the reason why the king valued his opinion more highly than most of his retainers and kept him in close proximity to his throne. Whatever befell the kingdom, there could never be a doubt that his brother would be present to serve as his mirror. Ardyn was the astute one, the one who acted with the end in mind without necessarily giving much thought to the means; his brother managed the details with excruciating accuracy until, between the two of them, a plan of action materialized. Without that tempering of wits and hearts, perhaps his rule would not have been so welcome. Without his brother, his reign would suffer._

 _Ardyn loved him as much as he hated him for that._

 _Seeming to sense Ardyn's thoughts the same damnable way he always did, his brother eventually murmured, "I do not envy you your fate. To be lashed so tightly to the existence of a sacred rock, to have the fate of our people resting almost singularly on your shoulders…" Ardyn furtively glanced over to see him shake his head in what the former almost believed was sympathy if not for the relief simmering so close beneath the surface. "I can only imagine the torment such a fate must present."_

 _"More tormenting is such captivity by my own guards," simpered Ardyn, dispensing with the sentimentality of the moment. He had neither the time nor the inclination for it._

 _What followed would have been a battle of the wills between two more equally matched parties. Contrarily, both brothers stared into the other's eyes with steadfast resolve in the hopes that their opponent would relent. Ardyn, of course, held the high ground: as king, he could quite simply_ order _his brother to step aside. It was his right, and he preferred to remind his retainers of that now and again—family relations notwithstanding._

 _He had to admit, though, that he was mildly impressed with how long it took for his victory to be assured. Long seconds stretched into minutes until finally his brother sighed and turned his gaze to the black marble floor beneath their feet. A lesser man would have genuflected. Ardyn wasn't sure whether that would have been more pleasing._

 _Despite his defeat, his brother made one last annoyingly heartfelt plea: "Is there really no dissuading you from this course?"_

 _Ardyn's lip curled in something like a defiant sneer. It certainly would have seemed that way were he not the ultimate authority in Lucis. Even so, he didn't want to completely alienate his most loyal retainer over such a trifling matter, so he tempered his disdain to confirm, "Oh, little brother. You know me_ far _better than that."_

 _Grey-blue eyes scrutinized him closely, searching for any crack in his finely crafted veneer that could be exploited to convince him to stay within the confines of the Citadel. None existed, of course; a sign of a true monarch was presenting an air of full conviction and knowing how to use it to get one's way. Ardyn had perfected the art long ago, even before he had ascended the throne, but it was_ adorable _to witness his younger sibling attempting to fathom a way around it._

 _Eventually, as always, his brother gave up with a reluctant, resigned nod. His hand moved to rest on the pommel of the sword strapped to his side, and for the briefest instant, Ardyn saw him as more than just his father's second child who would never see the throne. In that moment, he was one of the steadfast knights of legend, loyal and patriotic and willing to lay down their lives in defense of king and country._

How quaint.

 _"If you are to go," his brother implored him emphatically, dispelling the illusion, "you must promise me one thing."_

 _Ardyn's eyebrow twitched in mingled curiosity and indignation. A king was bound by no man's oath but his own—it was those around him who were to swear service to_ him _, not the opposite. Yet, in light of the grudging love he still bore for his brother in spite of his many shortcomings, Ardyn indulged him._

 _"And what might that be?"_

 _Hesitation stole his voice for an immeasurable moment until he finally managed, "That you will not do anything rash or reckless in the name of protecting people who may be impossible to save."_

 _A laugh rose unbidden from Ardyn's throat, and he clapped a hand down warmly on his brother's shoulder. How could he ever have imagined any other request might come from his sibling's lips?_

 _"My_ dear _Izunia," he purred with a generous gesticulation for his brother to precede him down the steps and away from the throne. "You have my word."_

* * *

The vast expanse of Lucis spread as far as the eye could see. Well, perhaps it wasn't such an impressive sight with the horizon obscured by the darkness raining down upon the world. The mountains, fields, and deserts of the kingdom were invisible; those who weren't intimately familiar with the terrain would have been hard-pressed to believe that they existed at all. The only reality, the only one that _mattered_ , was currently bathed in glorious shadow.

Insomnia was positively _radiant_ this way.

Where once the blinding neon lights of civilization had reigned more strongly than any ruler ever could now stood dark sentinels of the night. Ghostly skyscrapers bereft of life stretched toward the sky, praying for salvation from some apathetic god while simultaneously casting deeper shadows on the surrounding city streets. Their silent pleas had not been answered, not in the years since Insomnia's fall nor with any hope of being so in those to come. After all, like so many others, their precious Crystal had forsaken them to the benefit of another; it had chosen a mere boy in lieu of the millions who stood to perish in its neglect. All that hope, that misguided faith in a so-called future king lay abandoned amidst the rubble of what had once been the greatest city in Eos before its arrogance had cost it everything.

And why shouldn't it? Hope was a fickle thing, as was fate, prone to bouts of nonsensical whimsy. Ardyn had learned long ago that _hope_ made fools of those with the best intentions; _fate_ could always be changed, usually by men of no consequence. Now, many hundreds of years later than he would have liked, he had finally learned the truth: the photophilic particles were not an evil, not the scourge that beings of lesser intelligence posited. No, they were a _gift_. For the first time in the history of the universe, the world appeared exactly as its true nature dictated. Those unfortunate souls, now shrouded in the same darkness that haunted their nightmares in the dead of night, would all see. They would _learn_.

Oh, but where were his manners? How unbecoming of a king to mull over such splendorous ponderings when there were guests to be entertained.

Guests who had already learned.

Turning away from the window beside the throne— _his_ throne—Ardyn smirked down at the four callers waiting patiently for his attention. They were all a mite underdressed, yet he was willing to overlook it just this once. The importance was not in their attire, but in their mere _presence_. To know that he had their company, their companionship, at such a significant crossroads… It would have indubitably brought a tear to the eye of any other monarch.

"My honored guests," Ardyn warmly addressed them, gesturing expansively with his arms. "I bid you welcome with my highest regards."

They smartly maintained their silence, awaiting his pleasure for their input. As it happened, he bore _none_ as he descended the steps like a predator approaching the most delicious of prey. To their credit, none of them so much as flinched under the pressure of his magnificence. He had to admire such _boldness_.

With a cold chuckle, he reached out to the man placed furthest to the left of the throne. Such a sturdy, noble physique. In another life, perhaps he would have been gifted a throne of his own by the gods that had abandoned this world to ruin. A pity. A _waste_.

A flame of anger licked at Ardyn's insides. As he clamped his hand down hard on his guest's shoulder, all the rage and indignation at the mere existence of such useless beings as these leaked out of him to seep into the other's pores, coloring his eyes entirely with a black deeper than any night. Ardyn dragged him forward along the ground by his sleeve, not bothering with caution on the sharp outcroppings of the marble stairs. Carelessly, he released his guest on the first landing and watched him slump to the ground with dispassionate revulsion.

"You remind me of him, you know," mused Ardyn, his voice hardly loud enough to reverberate off the walls. "So loyal, so _true_ even in the face of utter destruction."

Just as before, he received no answer. His lips curled, his fingers caressed the heavy metal chain that slithered into his hands at his wordless request. All the while, his guest remained motionless, his tattered coat painting him as little more than a vagrant despite his honorable origins.

"There _is_ , however, _one_ thing that sets the two of you apart. Your willingness to sacrifice so _much_ for your king…" His chuckle was dark as he viciously wrenched one ashen, magically charred arm towards him and wrung the chain around it tightly. "How very _noble_ indeed. Ulric, was it?"

Black, empty eyes stared back at him from what was once the brave, chivalrous guard of the Oracle, Nyx Ulric. It was almost distressing to see how far he had fallen— _almost_. The kings of old had most certainly had their way with him; their handiwork was painted along his ruined left arm, crawling up his neck and the side of his once handsome face. Many decades ago, before all in existence had grown tiresome and dull, it would have fascinated Ardyn to see such a strong man brought so low. All those muscles, all that training had come to naught. Ulric, like any other mere mortal, was nothing more than a vacant corpse. He had been unable to escape his fate just like the rest of them.

Perhaps that was why Ardyn used no magic to thoroughly, almost _tenderly_ , wrap his limbs in chains and hoist him from the ceiling like some macabre marionette. Yes, it would have been _simpler_ , but where was the reward in that?

Some things, he reasoned, were best done by hand.


	2. A Different Kind of Oracle

Chapter Two: A Different Kind of Oracle

 _"How pleasant."_

 _Honestly, Ardyn could have been referring to any number of things as he strolled casually into the building currently being utilized as a quarantine shelter. It may have been the rancid stench permeating the room, speaking of endless suffering and pain and death. Perhaps it was the imposing figures, dressed from head to toe in black robes, who called themselves healers when they clearly knew just as little of the disease as their patients. The building itself may have given him cause for disdain—they_ had _, after all, chosen the most dilapidated, isolated mess of a shack on the outskirts of Insomnia to house the ill. Certainly, he had reason to be speaking of the many patients awaiting treatment or death, with their blackened limbs and distant eyes staring up at him as though the Astrals themselves had descended to retrieve their lost souls._

 _Or he might simply have been alluding to the veritable wall of guards, retainers, and soldiers separating him from his subjects._

 _"Izunia," he sighed, shaking his head as he turned disappointed yet mildly amused eyes on his brother. "How is it you expect these_ poor _people to get any rest with so many swords in their faces?"_

 _If it wouldn't have been considered rude—even_ treasonous _—to roll his eyes, Ardyn had no doubt Izunia would have done exactly that. Rather than causing a scene, his brother maneuvered him closer to the door they had just entered through and hazarded a glance over his shoulder to ensure that they would be seen but not heard._

 _"In order to ensure your safety, Your Majesty, we mu—"_

 _"And what would give you the impression that I am not safe here?" Ardyn gestured vaguely towards the immobile bundles of rags collapsed here and there on the pitiful excuses for beds dotting the floor._

 _Raising an eyebrow that said more than he would, Izunia coolly responded, "Caution is our best defense."_

 _With a taunting sneer, Ardyn sardonically countered, "Indeed, I'm sure any one of these sickly subjects may be in possession of an instrument of assassination. How_ ever _would I_ survive _such an encounter without so many loya—"_

 _"With all_ due _respect to Your Majesty," Izunia ground out, his patience wearing thin, "there are greater dangers to your life than physical attempts to take it."_

 _"Don't be such a fool, Izunia."_

 _"I hadn't realized I should warn you of the same."_

 _The conversation froze just as suddenly as the air between them, and it was clear that Izunia realized his mistake long before the deadly flash of rage shot through Ardyn's eyes. The latter took a step closer into his brother's—his_ subordinate's _—space, glowering down at him with all the authority vested in his office as well as his person. To his credit, Izunia did little more than avert his gaze somewhere just to the left of Ardyn's shoulder but otherwise showed little reaction to the error he was well aware he had made._

 _That did not mean he would so easily dodge the blade of his monarch's retribution._

 _"Who is your king?"_

 _Izunia swallowed hard but offered no answer. It did not_ anger _Ardyn, per se, but he was by no means gentle when he placed a hand pointedly on his brother's shoulder and_ squeezed _._

 _"Who is your king, Izunia?" he inquired again, emphasizing each word with dangerous intent._

 _After the briefest moment of hesitation, Izunia replied evenly, "You are."_

 _"And whom do you serve?"_

 _"You."_

 _"You…?"_

 _"Your Majesty."_

 _"Yes," breathed Ardyn. He put a finger under Izunia's chin, forcing it up so that the latter had no choice but to reluctantly meet his gaze. "_ Me _. The next time you wag that tongue at me in front of my subjects as though I am your brother and not your king first and foremost will be the day you may find it missing. Do we understand one another?"_

 _That earned him an odd look, but Izunia quickly smothered it behind a detached expression of abject servitude as he responded, "We do, Your Majesty."_

 _Ardyn held his gaze for another moment—then two—before finally releasing his chin and clapping both hands once on his brother's shoulders, jostling him lightly with an enormous, fabricated smile. What an impression the two of them made—appearances, of course, were_ everything _, even to a room full of wretches on the brink of death._

 _Wretches, it so happened, who were awaiting salvation at the hands of their king._

 _A king who had little knowledge of how exactly he would be doing that._

Oh, well. Improvisation is the mother of invention.

 _None of the earlier animosity remained in his tone as Ardyn motioned widely at the room around them and announced, "Such a disease is not communicable through use of physical contact, dear brother. Thus, your guards are quite useless here in reference to protecting my safety. They would_ much _better serve me outside where they will be out of the way."_

 _It appeared for a moment as though Izunia would forget the valuable lesson Ardyn had just taught him and argue once more the necessity of their retinue. However, a few seconds was all it took for him to realize the consequences of such insubordination; after another minute, only the two of them and the court physician they had brought with them remained, the rest of the guards newly stationed out of sight and out of mind._

 _"If it pleases Your Majesty, I will accompany you as you make your rounds in the event you should require assistance," Izunia informed him, by no means_ asking _so much as_ insisting _._

 _Every fiber of Ardyn's being wanted to deny him that. He longed to send him away like any other loyal guard, helpful but ultimately expendable. From the instant Ardyn had been told he was to remain within the confines of the Citadel for his own protection—by order of his brother—to their arrival at the quarantine accompanied by half the guards in Insomnia—by order of his_ brother _—he had desired to remind Izunia of his place. It was not equal to that of the king regardless of their shared parentage. No, one was greater than the other, and while Ardyn granted power to his brother so that he may be of use to the kingdom, he could just as easily revoke it._

 _The sign of a true monarch, however, was knowing when to make a point and when to bide your time. Now was indubitably the latter, so he nodded with a simpering smile and let his brother believe that this was one argument he had emerged from as the victor. Ah, yet another sign of Izunia's naivety: he had never been able to see the forest for the trees, nor the war overshadowing each individual battle._

 _If he was not careful, it would be his undoing._

 _The issue could be resolved at another time, and Ardyn instead turned his attention to the entire reason for his presence: his people._

 _What a sight they made. The room was nearly filled with patients and healers alike, each easily distinguishable from the other given their varying states of unrest. The latter were quite invisible, in a sense, their black robes forming a barrier in front of even their faces in a futile attempt to stem the flow of sickness into their own doomed bodies. It took a great deal of restraint not to laugh at the irony of their positions—healers who should have known better showing their ignorance so willingly, so openly. A shame indeed._

 _The patients they cared for, the suffering they bore was sobering. Each of the reports Ardyn had received were vague with regards to the symptoms of the illness—weakness in the limbs could be anything, but there was no mistaking the telltale spots of black darkening their skin. That was the only characteristic that had been present regardless of the location or severity of the disease. For some, the symbol of their impending doom was brilliantly displayed for all to see; it colored their faces, arms, legs, hands, or feet. Others appeared almost normal, but the vacant expressions they wore were identical to their stricken counterparts, indicating that the plague was hidden beneath the rags they called clothing._

 _There were strong men who should have been working the farms, tending to the crops that would feed Insomnia through the winter._

 _There were women of ripe age for bearing children to help their fathers in those fields._

 _There were elderly men and women, of little use to their families but of great import nonetheless._

 _There were children. There were toddlers. There were infants._

 _Of course, the Starscourge released upon them by the Infernian did not discriminate. It cared little for the nobility of one's blood or the quality of one's purse. It bore no ill will towards the old and infirm, nor did it hold a grudge against the young and strong of body. All it sought was blood—any would do._

 _As Ardyn strode through the aisles of makeshift beds that were little more than straw mattresses settled wherever there was room, he frowned down at the afflicted with a mask of sympathy. They stared back at him, pleading with their eyes when their voices failed; those who were not yet too far gone to move reached for the hem of his coat, weak fingers grasping desperately as though his mere touch might save them. While he knew the role he was to play in this plague, Ardyn was aware that it would not be so simple as that._

 _Truly, he had little idea of what_ would _work to cure this despicable scourge. His dreams, the words of the gods, had been less informative than he would have liked. Ardyn was not the Oracle; to his knowledge, he was not capable of the same healing magic of which she was rumored to employ. Yet even as light to beat back the darkness flowed through her blood, if such stories were to be believed, she would never rid them of the plague itself no matter how many innocent lives she spared—that task was appointed to him, and him alone._

 _Such a heavy burden fell to the Chosen King, armed with the Crystal, the Ring of the Lucii, and the Astrals' blessings._

I wonder…

 _Footsteps he attributed to Izunia and the physician (whose name he could never quite remember, nor did he care to for as seldom as he required his services) followed in his wake as Ardyn strode purposefully over to what had to be the worst case he'd yet seen and knelt before her._

 _The little girl could not have spent more than half a decade on this earth, but the disease had wrought such destruction on her young features as to render her unrecognizable as a child. Children did not have eyes that spoke of untold misery; they did not lay idle without the sense to protect themselves from an approaching stranger._

 _Their entire faces were not marred by black shadows, crawling beneath their skin like a beast within their very veins._

 _"Hello there," cooed Ardyn in his least intimidating tone, smiling down at her with the gentleness he'd once received from his mother when he was hardly older than this little girl. Before such trivial matters like_ love _had become more a hindrance than a boon. "What is your name?"_

 _The child said nothing, although her lips moved soundlessly as if she had heard his question and was attempting to answer. After kindly allowing her a moment to try, one of the black-clad healers moved closer to whisper, "She is called Malum, Your Majesty. Please forgive her—she has lost both of her parents and has not spoken a word since."_

 _"There is nothing to forgive." Ardyn waved the apology aside easily and turned back to young Malum, who watched him blearily through unfocused eyes, seemingly waiting to discern if he was friend or foe. Perhaps that was merely his own mind attributing motives to her scrutiny, however; there was little in her gaze to confirm that any thoughts were present behind those damningly vulnerable green eyes. "How long since she took ill?"_

 _"It has been a few days, Your Majesty. Nigh on a week now."_

 _"And how far has the disease spread?"_

 _"We have little hope she will hold out three days hence, sire."_

 _Humming in acknowledgement, Ardyn reached out a hand to pull back the threadbare blanket that had been settled under Malum's chin. There was a sharp intake of breath behind him at the travesty beneath, whether from his brother or the physician he did not know._

 _She was dressed in little more than a ragged white shift, which made it quite easy to see the vast map of evidence the Starscourge had left in its wake. The shadows trailed up her bony, pale arms from where they wrapped around delicate fingers; they crawled up her neck and had devoured the right side of her face. Ardyn did not go to the trouble of revealing the rest of her body to the open air, instead replacing the blanket when he noticed the trembling of her chilled limbs. There was little need—her legs could have been white as snow, and it wouldn't have made a damn bit of difference. Three days was a generous appraisal of the girl's chances, that much was very clear._

 _When Ardyn glanced over his shoulder and met his brother's eyes, he saw that Izunia was thinking the same. Even the court physician, who had backed away instinctively the moment Ardyn had shifted the sad excuse for a blanket, was staring in abject horror and depthless sadness; he may have known as little of the disease as the rest of them, but it did not take a great deal of education on the matter to read the signs._

 _Yet Ardyn did not allow that to dissuade him. This was what he had been chosen for—what he had been_ born _for—and Ardyn was not going to shy away from the weight of his calling now. Not when so many stood to gain if there was any truth to his suppositions._

 _So, without another word, Ardyn lifted his hand and placed it on Malum's forehead. The little girl's eyes closed instinctively, like a disciple of the Astrals entering into prayer. There was a seemingly interminable moment where Ardyn could only marvel at the dichotomy of her overheated skin juxtaposed against the cool metal of the Ring of the Lucii upon his finger. The latter was always cold, as though awaiting some catalyst to bring it warmth, but Ardyn had long since grown accustomed to its presence. To bear its weight was an honor reserved for_ him _, and he would never complain that its presence caused him undue stress or discomfort._

 _It was_ his _, whatever the cost._

 _As was the magic imbued within it by the gods themselves. Such a glorious symbol of his reign could only be the repository for a great deal of power, and it was that power which Ardyn tapped into now as he closed his eyes and reached for the arcana. It was always just within his grasp, yet he seldom had need to utilize it. After all, what possible purpose could such magic have in times of peace? The great war that had been waged between the Astrals and the traitorous Infernian remained to this day the last instance of such violence; even then, there had been no need for conflict between the humans, who were the unfortunate victims of such carnage. Never, therefore, had Ardyn thought he would have any use for the power the ring granted to him._

 _Until now._

 _Ardyn could feel it the moment his very being merged with the arcana, and he drew forth its power until his hand trembled where it still rested on Malum's forehead. The spell he wished to use—the one he had been taught in a dream—would bring defeat to all his enemies. It was Death in the most literal sense, but he harbored no desire to bring it upon the innocent, vulnerable girl beneath his grasp; such would come on its own if given time. Perhaps the Astrals would think it a perversion of the magic they had granted to him that he altered its course, directing the spell towards not the child, but the illness within her. That could very well die so long as it left the tender life it had threatened to take intact._

 _There was no way of knowing whether his attempt would be successful until he tried, so once Ardyn was as positive as possible that he had channeled the spell's energy to his own altered uses, he let it flow from the ring and out through his fingertips._

 _All at once, he knew there was a difference. He could_ feel _it in his bones, the blood surging through his veins, the beating heart that was all he could hear besides the whispers of the Astrals. It made the fingers of his hand, adorned with the Ring of the Lucii, go cold until he could not feel them anymore. The only sensation he felt was emptiness…_

 _Then the sharp stab of a cold knife in the center of his chest._

 _Ardyn's eyes snapped open, his vision blurry as he gaped down at the way the ring glowed violet. He could not pull his hand away from Malum's forehead, nor did he want to even when the light grew so bright that it was almost blinding in its magnificence. There was no way to describe the feeling that filled him to the brim after the initial shock and pain of the spell, but something was…different. The shadows of the Starscourge were leaking out of the child's face, leaving pure and unblemished skin in their wake to crawl toward his own hand like a moth to flame._

 _What he_ hadn't _expected, however, was for that same darkness to survive. It did not dissipate as Ardyn had intended, banished to the unseen realm under the force of the Death spell contained within the Ring of the Lucii. Rather, it seeped into the skin of his palm and continued its cold ascent up his arm towards his chest. By the time the light of the ring had dimmed and vanished altogether, the markings of the plague disappeared from Malum's complexion and Ardyn found himself stemming the tide of his panic._

 _He had not meant for that to happen._

 _He had not realized that in bastardizing the spell, he would be taking the girl's place as the scourge's victim._

 _He had not planned to die in this way for his people._

 _But he_ wasn't _. A minute passed—two—three—and nothing happened. He did not collapse in illness or react violently to the darkness that had just entered his body like a parasite. No, he felt…alive._ Strong _. There was renewed power flowing through his muscles as though the containment within his body was a nuisance, prompting the hysterical desire to get up and_ run _to relieve the energy now coursing through his veins. Never had he experienced such life, such euphoria as that which now encompassed his entire being._

 _Was_ this _the true nature behind the darkness of which the Astrals had forewarned? Why would they hide such a glorious thing?_

Ah, but we're getting ahead of ourselves.

 _Now was not the time for those thoughts—those blasphemous, traitorous thoughts—and Ardyn was thankfully forced from them by the gasps and exclamations of wonder that erupted around him._

 _With a frown of confusion that slowly gave way to understanding, Ardyn watched Malum's eyes open and focus on him with utter clarity as she reached out one surprisingly strong hand to clutch the sleeve of his coat. None of the healers that rushed over could convince her to let go, and although she spoke not a word, her eyes remained locked on his own as they examined her for any traces of the disease._

 _There were none._

 _"You did it," he heard Izunia whisper behind him, his voice filled with wonder the likes of which Ardyn had never heard. He could get used to such admiration from his brother. "You cured her."_

 _His words released a firestorm around them. All the healers and the patients strong enough to be aware of their surroundings broke into a fervor of applause and prostrations of praise to the gods—as if they had done anything._

 _Ardyn went through the motions: he smiled, he nodded graciously, he shook hands and patted bowed heads with paternal affection._

 _All the while, he craved_ more _._

* * *

"Can you imagine it, my old friend? The thrill of both life and death bowing to your whims like a god amongst men?"

Iedolas Aldercapt offered no response, his blackened eyes staring up at the ceiling from his twisted, broken body. The sight made Ardyn sneer as he knelt down beside him, tutting.

"Oh, but of _course_ you can. We are the same in so many ways, you and I. We have both felt the _hunger_ , tasted the sweet delight of the one thing that could sate it. Well," he chuckled under his breath, "for a time, at least."

With great care, Ardyn clasped the former emperor's hand between his own and dragged him along the floor towards the stairs. His body made the most delicious sounds as it crashed against each step—the crunch of broken bone, the squelch of parting skin, the hiss of the shadows that oozed from his eyes in anticipation for what was coming next. His had been the most difficult cadaver to retrieve, although Ardyn relished the challenge. There was nothing he couldn't do, however, so the darkness had yielded Aldercapt's corpse to him readily when he put the full force of his power behind the attempt.

The broken man beneath him, once one of the most powerful in the world, was pitiful to behold. Unlike Ardyn, he had not grown to accommodate the darkness within him. Unlike Ardyn, he was incapable of containing such power within that pathetic, aged vessel. The shadows had eaten away at him until there was nothing left but bones and skin, hardly enough to sustain life.

 _Never_ enough to achieve such _lofty_ aspirations of wielding the Ring of the Lucii.

"Such a shame," lilted Ardyn, propping his honored guest against the railing and gazing down upon him with amused condescension. "I handed you _everything_ —your Magitek infantry, your pitiful empire, all the power in the world—and still you _failed_."

The chains were in his hands before he'd realized, and Ardyn wound them up Aldercapt's arm with none of the gentleness he'd shown Ulric. No, this piece of filth that dared to call itself a ruler of men deserved no such consideration.

"All my many gifts at your disposal, and you _still_ —"

He crossed the chain over one sunken chest—

"—couldn't manage _one_ —"

—an emaciated waist—

"— _helpless_ —"

—the heel of an awkwardly bent foot—

"— _infantile prince_."

With a hard yank, Aldercapt's body was heaved off the ground into the air, and Ardyn watched with savage delight as it dangled high above the floor. His filthy, eroding white robes bore a stark contrast to the black-clad Kingsglaive operative opposite him. How very appropriate: the latter, who even in death still carried the glory of his deeds in life, had been unable to survive the brightest light just as the former buckled under the weight of deepest darkness. They were quite the foil, the pair of them.

Ardyn set his gaze back on the man who had unwittingly provided him with everything he required to exact his final, lasting revenge on the line of Lucis Caelum and bowed mockingly.

"Such an emperor, indeed. When opposed by little more than a mere _babe_ , fresh from the cradle and armed with power he did not yet understand, _you_ were the one to fall. A true waste."

It mattered little that his own scheme would have suffered should the former emperor have succeeded in ending the young prince while the latter was trapped in the bowels of Zegnautus. The fact remained that he should have survived such an encounter intact against a ragtag band of talentless miscreants— _weakness_ was something Ardyn could not abide even in his most useful of servants.

His other guests had set a remarkable example, of course. Their bravery, their _gall_ to stand in the face of his own might was admirable if foolish. They, unlike Aldercapt, were worthy of his attention.

And they would have it.


	3. The Crystal's Chosen

Chapter Three: The Crystal's Chosen

 _"I simply cannot believe it," chortled Izunia, shaking his head in disbelief as his eyes scanned the latest reports. "All cases of Starscourge within the city have been eliminated, and outbreaks in the outlying regions have declined to their lowest level in_ years _." He raised his eyes to stare in wonder. "How ever have you managed it, brother?"_

 _Ardyn reclined back on his throne and waved a careless hand. "That, my dear Izunia, would be_ telling _."_

 _With another hearty chuckle, his brother mused, "Well, whatever your methods, it cannot be denied that they are proving quite effective against this plague. You are, indeed, the Chosen King."_

 _"Was that ever in doubt?"_

 _"Of course not. It's just…"_

 _Such hesitation was not necessarily cause for concern, but it was rather uncharacteristic of Izunia to falter. Ardyn had spent a great deal of time reminding him of his subordination to the throne and, therefore, the requirement that he occasionally close the gaping hole he casually termed his_ mouth _. Years of practice had borne little fruit; Izunia seldom refrained from sharing his innermost thoughts and concerns without the slightest provocation. That he was so reticent to divulge them now was…curious, to say the least._

 _When he finally tired of waiting for his brother to commence what would likely be an unfortunate if interesting tirade, Ardyn purred reassuringly, "Do speak your mind, brother. How I love hearing its inner workings."_

 _Half a lie was more appealing than a true falsehood—Ardyn_ did _care greatly for Izunia's input on many matters. There was simply so_ much _of it that one could weary of such devotion to pointless ideals._

 _Emboldened by Ardyn's proclamation of confidence, Izunia nodded resolutely and began, "Ever since we were children, we were brought to understand that you would be the Crystal's chosen champion, the one who would right the Astrals' wrongs and bring peace to the world…"_

 _"Go on," prompted Ardyn when he trailed off once more. Izunia swallowed, a nervous gesture Ardyn was growing increasingly familiar with, and obeyed._

 _"It was always so difficult to imagine you—or_ anyone _," he stammered uneasily, "fulfilling such a role."_

 _The words were spoken clearly, albeit with the rapid syllables of one who was aware that his opinion would not be well-received and hoped to impart it in haste to soften the blow. It was fortunate that Ardyn cared little for the opinions of his critics; otherwise, he might well have been offended by his brother's admitted lack of confidence. As it was, he couldn't quite keep from making his displeasure at such doubts known._

 _"You have so little faith in me?" he inquired coolly, quirking an eyebrow when Izunia stumbled forward with graceless steps._

 _"Not at all! I simply…was unable to comprehend the vast might of such power provided by the Crystal. For anyone to accomplish the feats you were destined to achieve seemed but a passing fantasy to me many years ago. Now, however…"_

 _"You believe."_

 _Izunia's face broke into a cautiously relieved grin. "I would be a fool not to. Ever since you healed that little girl two years ago, you have become the image of divinity. With each subject you wrench back from the brink of death, I see you grow more and more like the Astrals themselves—you transcend the mortal plane. I… I cannot say I was wrong. I_ don't _believe just anyone could have risen to the task._ You _are the only one."_

 _Then, for the first time that Ardyn could remember, Izunia genuflected on the landing beneath the throne with his head bowed as though in worship. Certainly the sight was not unfamiliar: at his coronation, all had been compelled to bow to their new king. His brother had not been exempt from that gesture of respect and fealty. This, however, was somehow different. There was no need to stand on ceremony; indeed, they were alone in the throne room and quite without an audience. It was merely the two of them—king and subordinate, brother and brother—yet there he was, knee to the floor and head bent low, secure in the belief that he knelt in the presence of greatness._

 _Of_ divinity _._

 _Ardyn was not immune to such a show of loyalty. With the smooth motions of a monarch, he rose from his throne and descended the steps until he stood before his brother—his subject—and placed a gentle hand on the back of his head. His fingers weaved through Izunia's black locks, ruffling them gently the way he used to when they were children. It made for quite the image, one that he would treasure all the days of his reign and far beyond._

 _It was the image he took with him when he left the Citadel that evening and strolled alone out of the Crown City._

 _It seemed so long ago that his guards refused his requests to wander the city unaccompanied. With the kingdom held tightly in the scourge's sway and the danger of those mysterious monsters lurking around every corner, it had been deemed unsafe for the king to put himself in undue danger. They had joined him on all of his outings, official and otherwise, and Ardyn had quickly grown tired of their presence the way a lover wearied of a clinging mistress._

 _Now, however, times had changed. His devotion to curing all those unfortunate souls who fell ill with the Starscourge meant that the streets were once again safe to traverse, and while it had taken some convincing even despite his lofty title, Ardyn frequently left the Citadel behind in search of something only he would ever truly understand._

 _Daemons were beyond the comprehension of the ignorant masses._

 _A few short months had passed before Ardyn understood the intricacies of their nature. The reports that flooded the Citadel at the height of the Starscourge infestation had offered little insight into their origins, only noting that they appeared where victims of the plague dwelled. Rumors had spread as rapidly as wildfire, and soon every corner of the kingdom was whispering about creatures born from the same shadows that choked the life from the innocent Lucian populace and even subjects of the latter_ transforming _into such horrid beasts._

 _Oh, if they only knew how right those rumors were. There would never be another day's peace._

 _But they didn't, and Ardyn ensured that they never would—not, at least, while he sat the throne. It was a well-kept secret, one that he had thus far managed to hold close to his chest. Not even Izunia, with his brilliant mind and vexing curiosity, had been able to discover the mystery of the daemons. If all went as planned, he would forever remain ignorant._

 _None of the creatures ever came near the walls of Insomnia with the scourge in rapid retreat, which was why Ardyn left the city to find them. Only once had a daemon been unleashed on his unsuspecting, helpless subjects—but a lowly goblin, as they had come to be known across the kingdom—and it had been thwarted almost immediately by the skillful guards protecting the Citadel. It had, however, stoked Ardyn's ever-growing interest in the latest additions to his kingdom. What were they? How did they come into existence? Why did they vanish with the daylight only to return once the sun had set in the evening?_

 _His questions and more were only answered beyond the walls, and so he ventured outside their borders as often as his retainers' inquisitiveness would allow. He strode the dark streets, his station and his title meaningless when the shadows made him the daemons' equal. When they came for him, it mattered not that he was the king of all they viewed with such little regard. He was_ prey _._

 _As they were his._

 _The hunt began as soon as he left the gates of Insomnia behind him. The guards at the border had long since stopped asking if he would require an escort—well, perhaps with a bit of monetary persuasion. That was the only way to ensure that they did not tell Izunia, who was far too curious about Ardyn's wanderings at times to be considered healthy. The last thing he needed was his little brother trailing after him in some misguided attempt to observe his nightly activities. As the guards were under his purview, compensation was the best method of guaranteeing their silence. If they had their own suspicions as to his whereabouts after dark, they were bright enough not to voice them or follow in his wake. The price was much too high for them to ever pay._

 _Once he was outside the gates, Ardyn strolled leisurely down the paved street in the brilliant darkness. The air held a slight chill with autumn approaching, but it was no hardship. It had been many months since Ardyn was conscious of the sensations of temperature. The cold did not bother him, nor did the heat warm him the way it once had. It was as though he drifted somewhere in the middle of the two, never erring to one side or the other lest he fall too far and never regain his equilibrium. The more cases of Starscourge he healed, the more detached his senses became to such meaningless things. It could only make him a better king not to be felled by cold or sweltering heat—a_ stronger _king._

 _A creaking groan to his right halted his progress, and Ardyn turned to watch as a giant daemon emerged from a pool of purple-tinted darkness. He had seen these before—enormous, humanoid creatures with massive swords the likes of which even Ardyn did not possess. Their skin was forged of the hardest iron, which made defeating them all the more difficult—for ordinary humans, of course._

 _With a patient smirk, Ardyn held out his hand and called upon the spell he'd grown increasingly proficient in casting over the last two years. The Ring of the Lucii glowed violet upon his finger as the magic welled within him. A moment later, it burst forth with unparalleled might to encompass the daemon in an eerie, reddish glow._

 _Like all good things in life, first came the pain—then the pleasure._

 _Almost as suddenly as the magic made contact with its target, the latter began to distort. Its broad shoulders lengthened while thick hips tapered in, contorting the daemon into disturbing shapes as the very life within it was drained away. Ardyn could see it clearly, so familiar was he with the process by now; he could practically taste the bitter, savory flavor of the shadows that passed through the magical bond between them and nested deep inside his own body._

 _The euphoria was nearly overwhelming. Had Ardyn been less experienced in the art, he might have accidentally severed the bond in his rapture. It remained intact, however, until the giant wilted and finally dissolved in a burst of dark particles._

 _So_ delicious _._

 _He never tired of the sensations that filled him up until there was no room left for anything else—the way his cells seemed to expand to encompass the entire universe, the way his skin tingled at the slightest breeze and the merest whiff of the night around him, the way his eyes could suddenly see through the shadows like some wild beast of prey. Regardless of how many times he experienced it, every occasion felt like the first. The craving that clawed hungrily at his insides was sated until his next outing, and he was able to breathe freely in the knowledge that this_ power _was his and his alone. He was able to openly, viciously curse the Astrals for hiding such extraordinary sensations from the world._

 _Well, that was going a bit too far. This was hardly a gift Ardyn wished to share with the rest of Eos. No, this was reserved for the most powerful man in Lucis—nay, the most powerful man in existence. The man who was chosen by the gods to save mankind; the man who could cure the incurable and bring peace to humanity. Not long after his first encounter with the catalyst for his discovery, he had realized what he had truly stumbled upon: a reward, a gift for his service._

 _Many long years ago, he would have claimed that the ring was reward enough. How naïve an assumption. The Ring of the Lucii was revered and coveted in equal measures amongst his family, for they knew not what it was. To them, the ring that adorned his finger was little more than a symbol of his status as the Crystal's champion and a conduit for the magic that imbued him as a result. It gave him his power, they would say if asked._

 _They did not know that the Ring of the Lucii gave_ nothing _. It only_ took _._

 _It took his energy until he wearied of his station._

 _It took his being until every spell bore him physical pain._

 _It took his life until he could only wonder just how long he would sit upon his throne._

 _It took and it took and it_ took _—that tool of the gods was hungrier than any babe._

 _Was that truly the gift the gods had bestowed upon him for his service to their cause? Had they offered him a boon to save his people only to realize that it would cost him his life in utilizing it? For so long, that had seemed the case. Ardyn had shrugged off the implications, however; his was a noble calling, one that would mark him as the savior of mankind for far longer than his meager time upon this earth would last._

 _Then he tasted the first sips of truth. He took those initial steps away from the blind faith of his childhood into the wider world and realized…it had all been a lie. The blessings of the Astrals, the danger of the dark, the pestilence of the Infernian—all of it, a sham. A hoax, perpetrated by those who knew no better because they had not the_ means _. And could he blame them? They were not Ardyn; they were not the Chosen King._

 _The Chosen King could harness the power locked inside the Ring of the Lucii not to steal from_ him _, but to steal from_ others _. He could bend it to his will and absorb the darkness within the afflicted and those too far gone to be saved. He could separate the bright light of their hearts from the deep darkness that flowed through their veins, bonding with it until there was no telling where he ended and those beautiful shadows began._

 _The Chosen King did not age. In two years, not one wrinkle had formed on his seemingly ageless face. His skin remained as flawless as in his youth—perhaps more so with the rejuvenating shadows that fed his very soul. He was unchanged and untouched by the world even as those around him succumbed to the march of time._

 _The Chosen King was stronger than the Oracle. The Chosen King was more than the Crystal. The Chosen King was greater than the gods._

 _And as the Chosen King turned back towards Insomnia, licking the darkness from his lips and reveling in the way it seeped into his pores, he vowed once again to show them all._

* * *

Ardyn sighed, shaking his head as he gloomily surveyed the gracefully arched ceiling high above. "People just don't understand beings like us. They know, of course, that we are _special_ , but our true power is so far beyond their limited comprehension. It is indeed a wonder that they have survived so long without our guidance."

His companion did not answer, but he took the fingers buried in his hair as agreement.

"Take your own ancestor, for example. I never met her myself—difficult times, and all that—but rumor of her miraculous feats reached me nonetheless. Her people all but _worshipped_ her. They probably would have done so if not for her insistence that she was unquestionably less deserving than the gods. Can you imagine?"

No answer. He would assume that was a _yes_.

"The two of us, placed upon the earth so that we might be as divine as gods among men, and she spurned their praise. So shortsighted, that first Oracle."

Ardyn turned his head to the side, sneering up at Lunafreya from where his head was pillowed on her pierced stomach. Opaque eyes stared back at him, undarkened by his taint yet not unaffected either. Her fingers seemed to shift in his hair as he reached up to caress the side of her face.

"I doubt, my dear, that you would have been any different," he tutted sadly. "The two of you are more alike than you know. Unfailingly kind, beloved by all who approached you. Impossibly naïve."

Despite her lack of reaction, Ardyn could read the pity in Lunafreya's sightless eyes. He could feel the warmth of her radiant, long faded light on his arm the same as he had that day in Altissia. Even in death, the Oracle gazed upon him as though he was somehow _less_ than human.

Oh, how wrong she was.

With sudden intent, Ardyn sat up and snatched the Oracle's chin between his fingers, drawing her up so that their noses nearly touched.

"You would give up your life—your gift—for an unworthy, undeserving boy playing at being a man," he snarled. "Do you deny it?"

She did not answer. He did not wait.

"You toiled away in service to a king unfit to rule and perished with a smile on your lips. You renounced your authority over your own people to give all you had—all you _were_ —away. For _nothing_."

Once again, she offered no retort. Ardyn pressed their foreheads together and stared into her eyes, summoning forth the dark power flowing through his veins. The black wave of his aggression swam near the surface, edging ever closer to her fair skin but not touching. _Never_ touching.

How was it that even in death the Oracle could remain unaffected by the shadows?

How was it that even in death her light had not been fully extinguished?

"You believe that it will protect you," he purred, running one hand along her jaw to cup the side of her neck. "But you are _wrong_. Darkness awaits you as it does me. As it does your _dear_ Noctis."

Something changed in her face—perhaps she thought Ardyn wouldn't notice, but such was her righteous condescension. Ardyn's mouth fell open slightly as he nodded, his lips turning upward.

"Ah…yes. I see it now. _That_ is what you have been waiting for, is it not? To be reunited with your husband-to-be. To sit beside his throne in subservience to a man who is _less_ than yourself." Ardyn chuckled, shaking his head. "You thought you could hide it from me. Come now, my dear. Surely you must have known that I would discover your secret eventually."

The metallic clinking of chains broke the silence around them as they slid across the floor, slipping into his palm like they were meant to be there. With respectful hands, Ardyn wound them around Lunafreya's torso and arms, finally looping the ends over her delicate ankles.

"I see now why it is that you sacrificed so much for one unworthy of your attentions," commiserated Ardyn as he rose to his feet and stared sadly down at the woman who would have ruled as queen in this very room. "So sad that your dreams never became a reality. But not to worry— _I_ am here now."

He bent forward, hooking his arms under her neck and knees to carry her up the stairs to the first landing. How pliant she was, how agreeable. Truly, _this_ was the ideal queen if not the model Oracle. And as he suspended her body high above the chamber where she had no doubt planned to be wed, Ardyn bowed in deference to what might have been.

"Your throne, _my lady_."


	4. Healer of the People

Chapter Four: Healer of the People

 _What a productive evening this had been. Ardyn reflected on it in satisfaction as he made his leisurely way towards the throne room. It was not often that he ventured very far outside of Insomnia, not when the nights were so short and prying eyes simply awaited the opportunity to determine his destination, but he had made a special exception this time. Rumors had been spreading about a great horde of daemons amassing along the border between Duscae and Cleigne for weeks now, and Ardyn would have been lying if he said that the possibility did not intrigue him greatly. With so few outbreaks of the Starscourge left in Lucis, there were rarely such infestations as to cause panic amongst his people. As their king, it was his duty to protect their wellbeing. What sort of monarch would he be to sit comfortably on his throne when his subjects may at any moment be slaughtered by droves of dark creatures driven mad by the temptation of their blood?_

 _The choice had been an easy one to make, although convincing his guards that their presence was not needed had been rather more difficult than in the past. Seldom did they outright_ argue _with him as they had done tonight; in the last seven years of his wanderings, he had been quite content that they were as disinterested in his nightly outings as was possible for anyone. This evening, however, had been different. In recent weeks, his guards had become more restive with his absences and eyed him with mingled trepidation and curiosity upon his return. Even Izunia, who had resigned himself to Ardyn's insisted solitude after dusk many years ago, had begun questioning his motives more and more._

 _It made little difference, of course. Ardyn needed only to remind them that_ he _was the king and that_ their _opinions were of little consequence in the grand scheme of the monarchy, and they relented like dogs before their master. In many ways, it was almost disappointing. Perhaps it was simply that Ardyn was growing bored of his secret even as he simultaneously reveled in being alone in his knowledge, yet he found himself wishing on occasion that there were more to this dual identity than kingship by day and hidden master of the shadows at night. It was a foolish thought, one that only the most careless, reckless of leaders would have acted on, but Ardyn was far wiser than that. If his people knew of his actions, of_ how _it was that he had healed them of their plague and pushed it back to the edges of the kingdom, they would panic. Humans were so quick to fear that which they did not understand, and he hadn't the slightest doubt that such fright would indeed extend to him were his secrets to be unfolded for all to see._

 _So, he maintained the delicate balance between his public and private lives, both of which grew more demanding as time passed. This had been one of only a handful of times that they had overlapped, leaving him with no choice but to allow his duties to his subjects as their king and his hidden urges to intertwine so intimately._

 _In doing so, he had insisted that no guards accompany him on his journey to the border. There was argument, as usual, and exclamations of dismay. He had been adamant, however. Convincing them had been simple considering the fact that they had far less knowledge of the daemons than he did. To spin a tale of monsters that would remain hidden from a larger group and only emerge in the presence of one was a feat worthy of a child. None of his retinue had the experience to counter his own knowledge, and they had been helpless to speak in the face of the intricate web of lies he wrought that somehow a pack of mindless, base, instinct-driven monsters could be so logical._

 _Daemons did not think like soldiers did._

 _Daemons did not strategize like commanders must._

 _Daemons did not_ feel _like humans were cursed to do._

 _Thus, albeit reluctantly, his guards had said no more on the matter and merely wished him safe travels on the long road to Cleigne. Ardyn supposed it would have been too naïve to expect the same treatment from Izunia. Indeed, the latter's absence had spoken volumes of his dissent, and Ardyn confessed himself glad that he had not needed to weary himself with his brother's disapproval. Although Izunia became quieter and more contemplative as he grew older, reading his emotions was not difficult for one who had spent his entire life overshadowing him. So long as his brother kept his thoughts to himself, Ardyn cared little. It could only mean that there would be more peaceful silence in the throne room._

 _At least, that was what he had hoped for. When he pushed open the doors to the chamber, Ardyn froze for a fraction of a moment when he spied a familiar back turned to him from the first landing before the throne. In that instant, he was not the king—he was a child awaiting the wrath of his father for some known but unclaimed crime. It stole the breath from his chest and left a chill on his skin that he had not felt in an age, a sensation that the darkness should have robbed him of long ago. The illusion broke when the figure turned and it was Izunia, not his father, who met his eyes._

 _Despite the many blessings he had been granted, it was Ardyn's curse to watch his brother grow into the very image of their father. His shoulders had broadened gracefully to fill out his suit, and while his limbs were still svelte and lean, they had lost that gangly quality of his earlier years. There were premature strands of grey hidden amongst the black, but they did not lend him age so much as dignity; they spoke of wisdom and experience, not the slow march of days that would eventually bring him to his end. The way they shone in the right light—in_ this _light—brought out the color of his eyes so that they glittered with untold emotion underlying the detachment settled on the surface. Time had been kind to Izunia, and he looked every bit the king he would have become had there been no other heir to the throne._

 _For as elegant the transformation in the younger, there had been none in the older. Ardyn remained unaltered by the years, the subtle progression of time leaving him behind as it focused its efforts on other,_ lesser _men. He was the picture of youth and radiance, as he had been all these long years, and there were no signs that change was on the horizon. There had been whispers, of course; such an obvious anachronism was difficult to hide the longer it continued. Few of them had been unflattering, however—many had deluded themselves into believing that as the Chosen King, he would bear the weight of the throne for many decades, perhaps even centuries, to come. As such, it would be quite counterproductive for him to age like normal humans did, and so they explained away his appearance with the conviction that it was all in the service of the gods._

 _Ardyn enjoyed the irony but would let them retain their delusions. As long as they asked no questions, he was not bound to give them any answers—and only one person ever dared to question him._

 _"You have returned," Izunia briskly asserted._

 _Raising an eyebrow, Ardyn straightened to his full and regal height to scoff, "What a warm welcome, brother. Did you spend a great deal of time in the planning?"_

 _There was a moment where it appeared that Izunia would make one of the sarcastic remarks he would have years ago, but it was gone in the blink of an eye to leave a distant, vaguely wary expression in its stead. It made Ardyn strangely apprehensive. This was not the brother he had left mere hours earlier._

 _It was only then, when he began to see that things were not as he'd originally assumed, that he noticed the guards stationed at intervals along the walls. They stood at rapt attention as though greeting a foreign delegation rather than their king, and such ceremony was indeed uncalled for when the sun had not yet painted the sky the dull grey of dawn. Not only were they present and_ armed _, but there were far more of them than Ardyn had seen in this room since his coronation. With a mask of careless curiosity, he gestured towards them, noting the way they all seemed to stiffen as one when he began his slow approach to his throne._

 _"Have I missed some event?" he inquired into the heavy silence broken only by his footfalls. "Had I known we were to receive a guest of such importance as to warrant half the royal guard's attendance, I would have returned sooner. To what do we owe the pleasure of their presence?"_

 _Ardyn did not miss the way Izunia's hand casually rested atop the pommel of his sword in some perverse mockery of the protective stance he'd assumed on countless occasions. There was no desire to aid his monarch visible in his cold eyes, however. Little could be seen in their depths at all._

 _"They are here for you," answered Izunia once Ardyn arrived at the bottom of the stairs. There should have been a title at the end of that sentence, Ardyn believed, but they were already in such ironically backward positions that he gave it no thought. For the first time in his memory, his brother held the high ground._

 _With a scornful gesture, Ardyn jeered, "For_ me _? Oh, how very charming. I had not realized that a simple matter as extinguishing a few_ daemons _would be cause for such a grand welcome."_

 _"Then you_ did _destroy them?"_

 _There was something hard and rough beneath the otherwise innocent question, a dare that Ardyn was not prepared to accept just yet. Not until he knew more._

 _"Why, did you believe that I would return unsuccessful?" he asked, his feigned insult hardly veiling the threat beneath. Izunia sensed it—he would have been a fool not to—but did not cower._

 _"Not at all," he countered with sudden lightness. "I merely wished to ensure that the creatures had in fact been_ destroyed _and not simply relocated."_

 _Something cold dropped into the pit of Ardyn's stomach, but he didn't pay it a moment's notice. His apprehension was as yet unwarranted. More time was needed to discern the gravity of the situation._

 _Rather than overreact to what may very well have been a baseless accusation, Ardyn pasted on an expression of concern. "Relocated? I'm afraid I do not understand your meaning."_

 _"I believe you_ do _," Izunia immediately retorted, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. "Or do you deny that you have been allowing the daemons refuge within your person?"_

 _And there it was. Somehow, by some remarkable means, he had fathomed it out. Ardyn, however, would not give in so easily._ He _was the king._

 _"Refuge within me?" Ardyn chuckled, motioning towards their audience. "Brother, do you not hear how unhinged that sounds? Come now, what truly concerns you?"_

 _When they were children, Izunia would have grown angry at the insinuation that he was acting with less than adequate sense. A few years ago, he would have quietly accepted Ardyn's denial and apologized, albeit grudgingly, for his assumptions._

Now _, however, he seemed to harden even further. It was not the bristling indignation of youth or the righteously silent resentment of maturity, but the unguarded conviction of the wise. And as he descended the steps with an unhurried, almost_ regal _gait, he appeared every bit as composed as their father at the height of his reign._

 _"For as long as I have attempted to repudiate what my own senses have proven to be fact, I have seen what you attempt to obscure in the night," Izunia murmured, his voice carrying around the throne room regardless. "I have followed when you left to devour daemons as you would drink. I have watched you hunt them and become one. I have seen the ways that they have changed you, brought darkness to your eyes and your soul until the man beneath can hardly be recognized." He paused on the step above, watching with sharp, scrutinizing eyes that had apparently seen too much. "So, I ask you again: do you deny it?"_

 _"You_ dare _to question your_ king _?" demanded Ardyn, his tone low and dangerous._

 _"I will question any man who dares to betray his people!" exploded Izunia. His eyes were suddenly alight with a flame that had never burned so brightly in their depths before._

 _Ardyn matched him, placing one foot on the first step. "Take care, Izunia. To level such wild accusations at your_ king _is tantamount to treason."_

 _"To allow our enemies to enter the Citadel unchallenged is but the same."_

 _"And have you any evidence besides what you_ believe _to have seen?"_

 _Izunia raised his chin in defiance. "I am of royal blood. My word is enough."_

 _"Is that so?" Ardyn sneered, shaking his head. "Is that what you intend to tell_ my _people? That you had some strange nightmare and, like a child, acted upon mere fantasy? That you betrayed their king over some trick of the mind or bout of paranoia?"_

 _"You know I would not," he denied, his cold detachment slipping back into place so that Ardyn was staring into the eyes of his father rather than his brother. "I shall have no need to tell them anything._ You _will abdicate the throne of Lucis. Immediately."_

 _Ardyn had not known that he was capable of feeling such surprise, and yet there it was, forcing him back a step. There was no pity in Izunia's eyes, no hesitation for what he was asking—demanding—of him. He looked like any king would when passing judgment on a common criminal._

 _That, more than anything, was what set Ardyn's very soul ablaze._

 _"Abdicate?"_

 _Izunia nodded resolutely. "I offer you the dignity of such an option to respect the man you once were."_

 _"And the alternative?"_

 _"Removal by any means necessary."_

 _Chuckling darkly, Ardyn rejoined, "My people would never allow it."_

 _"How often have you ventured amongst_ your people _of late?" inquired Izunia, his brow creased in a disdainful frown. "How frequently have you visited them in recent days?"_

 _It was rather a low blow, even Ardyn had to admit that. He had spent increasingly little time with the citizens of Insomnia and less still with the other subjects scattered across his kingdom. There was little time for it, what with matters of state to attend to by day and evenings spent in the company of…other consorts. Regardless, Ardyn allowed Izunia not an inch as he observed, "A king's first duty is to_ serve _his people, not socialize with them."_

 _His argument fell on deaf ears. "How can a monarch serve his people when he knows them not?"_

 _"All that I must know, I do."_

 _"Really?" Izunia's anger dimmed slightly to leave an expression of incredulous disappointment in its wake. "You are familiar with what they offer to the kingdom, that much is true. But do you know their hearts? Have you not seen the unease in their eyes as you pass them in the streets when once they would have groveled at your knees? Have you not witnessed the way children shy away from you when once they would have clamored for your attention? They may seem unobservant to you, but they can_ sense _your treachery."_

 _"They sense that they are in the presence of greatness," contradicted Ardyn with a dismissive wave of his hand. "They see their monarch and respect my authority. You yourself once crooned that I had transcended the mortal plane and become_ divine _—you prostrated yourself where you stand in the face of my power, and_ you _are of royal lineage. Do you truly expect that common peasants would react in such a dignified manner as us? Is it indeed_ fear _that you see in their gazes and not_ respect _?"_

 _"That you fail to recognize the difference anymore is telling enough of what you have become. Indeed, my eyes have shown me many things. I have learned to trust them."_

 _"You have more faith in them than your king."_

 _"You are no king. You are a tyrant, a madman masquerading as a monarch," hissed Izunia. There were tears welling in his eyes, although he blinked them away as quickly as they appeared. "Masquerading as my brother."_

 _The words had hardly left his lips before Ardyn's hand was at his throat, squeezing tightly as he yanked his brother's face to his own. With Izunia's rapid pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips, Ardyn snarled, "This is_ my _kingdom. It is my birthright, not yours._ I _am chosen by the Crystal, by the gods themselves, to rule Lucis. You will_ not _take what is rightfully mine, not while I draw breath."_

 _As he spoke, the Ring of the Lucii glowed brighter to mirror his determination. Oh, how addicting the scent of Izunia's fear was in his nostrils, how tempting the way the fingers of his hand scrabbled against Ardyn's forearm even as the other waved back the guards that moved behind him. They were of no concern—they could not stop this now that at it had begun._

 _His brother was a traitor, and he would be punished. The gods would forgive him. He was_ chosen _._

 _If the guards could not rein themselves in, they would suffer the same fate. Against the might of the Chosen King, they were as fragile as waves crashing against the solid rock of the shore. He would break them as easily and weather their aggression far longer than they could withstand his wrath._

 _And with those vengeful thoughts, he felt the glorious wave of darkness crashing over him even before Izunia's eyes widened in reaction._

 _The ring was nearly blinding when Ardyn, stroking his brother's cheek with his free hand, cooed, "Lucis is_ mine _. But fear not, brother. I am not_ angry _. No, you have proven here today your devotion to this kingdom and all its people. In exchange for your ever selfless service, I offer you peace."_

 _Seeing no longer the boy he had grown up with or the man who had once been his closest confidant, Ardyn reached for the magic that had flowed through his veins all his life—_

 _The power that he had been granted by the Infernian's plague—_

 _And fire erupted within him, so hot and agonizing that Ardyn cried out. He couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn't hear—all he knew was that his hand was empty of more than just Izunia's throat as the pain stabbed viciously into every cell of his body._

 _When he was finally able to open his eyes once more, he was on his knees. His breaths were labored, and he felt cold for the first time in years. It made little sense, especially when he saw the charred remains of his hand and knew without looking that his arm—his_ body _—appeared no different. There was no sense in the matter, not until he attempted to stagger to his feet only to realize…_

 _The Ring of the Lucii was gone. It rested innocently against the black marble of the floor, the jewel within winking up at him with a dull and colorless light Ardyn did not recognize. Had it slipped from his finger? But how, when it had been so tightly wrapped around his brother's neck, so firmly pressed against that delicious vein that would tell him first when life ceased to beat in Izunia's chest…?_

Izunia…

 _When Ardyn made to snatch the ring from the space between where he was barely standing and his brother had collapsed to his own knees, it felt as though the metal was made of the same molten rock as the sun. He may as well have tossed himself into the volcanic pits of the Infernian's resting place; it would have spared him the suffering._

 _"The Ring of the Lucii has abandoned you," wheezed Izunia, insinuating what Ardyn was unwilling to accept._

 _It wasn't merely the ring that had betrayed him. It was the gods._

 _Ardyn hardly realized that he had lunged forward again until he felt multiple pairs of strong arms yanking him backwards, pinning him to the floor so that all he could see were the feet of the guards that had been waiting for the moment to choose which side they would honor. It would appear that, without the blessing of the ring that now taunted him mere inches from his nose, it would not be Ardyn._

 _His struggles were met with only renewed efforts to contain him, and the weakness that filled the void where once the Ring of the Lucii had completed him made it impossible to harness the dark energy deep below the surface. Even as he shouted for his men to release him, for them to remember who their_ true _king really was, he knew that he had lost._

 _And as Izunia stepped into his line of sight and knelt beside him, a hatred so strong that no mortal could possibly have ever felt its equal devoured his heart._

 _"I do not envy you your fate!" Ardyn spat under his brother's harsh yet agonizingly sympathetic gaze. "That is what you once told me, brother. You_ liar _. You waited here in the shadow of the throne—_ my _shadow—and bided your time until you could take everything from me. Your jealousy betrays you—how long have you plotted my downfall? How long have you planned this treasonous accord with_ my _guards, you wretched creature?"_

 _Izunia did not answer at first, and Ardyn refused to believe the pain swimming in his eyes. It was all a falsehood—it always had been. His brother had never seemed the jealous sort, but why wouldn't he be? To grow up alongside the Chosen King who would save the entire world singlehandedly? He may as well have been a bastard for all that he was worth anything to the Lucis Caelum line. Ardyn should have seen this betrayal on the horizon long before this day. It should have been obvious that his brother would never be happy as nothing more than a retainer, a glorified attendant who would be remembered for doing no more than organizing the king's home. The only shock in his traitorous act was in how long it had taken for this treachery to be committed._

 _What a talented actor Izunia was, not only for his longstanding charade of loyalty but also for the even tone he adopted as he declared, "You will be taken far away from here, where you will not be able to harm anyone with the daemons you call friends. The rest of your time on this earth will be henceforth spent as a man of no consequence. The people will be told only that you abdicated and left Insomnia for the sake of your health. They will remember you as the healer of the people you once were, but history will forget you. The line of Lucis Caelum will forget you. The world will forget until you are nothing more than the shadow you chose to become many years ago."_

 _With that, Ardyn was hoisted to his feet and surrounded by guards who had once been dedicated to his safety. Now he could see plainly in their eyes that they were no longer his—they were his brother's._

 _They remained true to the king of Lucis, even if it was not the_ rightful _king. Even if it was some lesser mortal who dared to think he was worthy of the ring he lifted into his filthy hand and the Crystal he would undoubtedly appeal to for power in the coming hours when Ardyn was long gone._

 _And as the Chosen King was dragged out of the throne room like an animal, he had but one parting word to relay to the angry, jealous creature that dared to dub_ him _the monster._

 _"They may forget, my dear Izunia, but they shall never escape me."_

* * *

"How does one willingly give birth to a creature that will one day replace it?" inquired Ardyn dispassionately, propping his chin on his palm and frowning. " _He_ was quite the accident, I can assure you. Had I known the treachery in his heart, I never would have allowed him so close to the temptation of the throne. But _you_ , on the other hand… Well, that was the _purpose_ , was it not? To create for yourself a replacement king who would take the throne after you? Oh, such a waste."

Regis did not reply, nor did his broken body step forward to defend his worthless son. It was a good thing, too—Ardyn didn't think his patience would be able to withstand yet another speech from someone singing the _new_ Chosen King's praises. And what a king indeed.

"I suppose I understand the idea in _theory_ ," Ardyn continued as he took hold of Regis's hand and pulled him into a sitting position. Once they were facing one another, Ardyn examining the features that had been passed down through many generations until they finally rested against this old and weathered visage, he murmured, "Continuing the family name, needing an heir for the throne—yes, yes, it's all very poetic. Why would you not search for something _better_ , though? You know the power of the Ring of the Lucii far more intimately than that son of yours. Surely you could have discovered some way to maintain your rule without doing so through mere _legacy_?"

No answer. It made Ardyn scoff.

"But of course. You _love_ your son, isn't that right? Even in his darkest, weakest hours, you _care_ for him. Your devotion is admirable, but I wonder—would you have felt the same if he hadn't been chosen?"

That was quite a question, and it appeared that Regis needed the time to ponder it. Ardyn had always been a merciful king, so he allowed it while he was busy wrapping chains around the former monarch's throat and torso.

"Greatness is hardly something I have come to expect from dear Noctis. I'm sure you, too, have seen the signs. He was never one I would have thought worthy of the throne. He simply isn't…how should I say this… _enough_. His retainers, of course, are quite capable, but a ruler must be more than the sum of his attendants. And to have placed so much trust in a failed experiment?" Ardyn groaned at the irony of it. "It doesn't instill a great deal of confidence in the young king's judgment of character, wouldn't you agree?"

The clinking of metal was all the reply he received, and Ardyn tutted in disappointment as he wrenched Regis upright. Even in death, the man was quite impressive. Yes, his body was emaciated and drained from the strain of maintaining the Wall for so many years, and his skin was pale and sagging with age, but… _This_ was a true monarch. _This_ was a man who had been willing to sacrifice all for his kingdom.

All, of course, except his son. That was the part that Ardyn _still_ didn't quite comprehend.

"The sign of a true monarch is understanding the necessity of acceptable casualties," he sighed, shaking his head. "I suppose you believe that sacrificing yourself to save your son was somehow _admirable_ , the act of a leader and a father in equal measures. Perhaps foolishness runs in the family after all."

Before he strung the dead king up to join his companions, Ardyn stroked his face with a careful hand. The skin beneath his fingers turned black as tears of deepest night streamed from Regis's eyes, staining his cheeks with the grief he would not have the opportunity to emote soon enough.

"Not to worry, _Your Majesty_ ," Ardyn cooed as he took hold of the chains once more. "Your beloved son will be joining you presently."

Family reunions were always so _touching_.


	5. Divine Intervention

Chapter Five: Divine Intervention

 _Day in, day out._

 _Sunrise, sunset._

 _Such was the nature of his punishment: to witness the thriving kingdom Lucis would become while never being granted the opportunity to touch it, to see all its splendor with his own eyes. Izunia was crueler than even he realized, for it was not the damnation of imprisonment on Angelgard that would be Ardyn's doom—it was watching his people ignore his very existence and turn to the traitorous wretch of a usurper sitting upon his throne. Meeting with retainers that were not his. Eyeing noblewomen to wed._

 _With whom to bear little bastards that would further taint the name of Lucis Caelum._

 _It was his gift and his curse to be entombed so near to the shores of his former home and forced to watch as time stretched on without him. The monarch within who longed to be amongst his people gave thanks for their continued safety, but that part of him was waning as the solitude sank its claws in deep. In its place rose something darker and angrier than any could have realized, including his misguided brother. That piece of him grew stronger every day that it was allowed to rage at its fate and rail against the betrayal of the Astrals who maintained his prison._

 _Much as he would have liked to lay the blame for his current predicament solely at Izunia's feet—and that was_ all _this little setback amounted to was a nuisance the likes of which only his brother could concoct—he could not. No, it was not the illegitimate king of Lucis who had constructed the towering golden rods that sealed off his cell from the rest of the world, nor the pillar of crystalized rock that channeled their magic to bar his only avenue of escape. Those had been present when he arrived, tied and gagged like some common criminal and not the monarch who had rescued his people from a terrible fate at the cost of his own safety. The only answer was that such marvels were created by the gods as a means to contain him—or something else—and had been activated purely in honor of his arrival._

 _During the wasted hours when the sounds of the ocean ceased to calm and instead grew to a maddening roar, Ardyn paced the length of his tiny stone cell and pondered the possibilities. Although he would never admit it aloud, he fancied himself quite the martyr to the cause, just as he had come to realize the Infernian was not too long ago. Could it be that this deserted, barren waste of an island had once been used to imprison one of the gods when he was betrayed by the rest of the Hexatheon? If that was the case, then Ardyn would be quite ungrateful not to feel at least marginally pleased with the Astrals' approximation of his power. They were, of course, vastly underestimating him if they believed that this hole could keep him long, but their overconfidence would be their undoing._

 _As for Ardyn… Well, it would be dishonest indeed if he were to claim that he was unaffected by this dank cell. Fit for a god or not, it was hardly appreciated. The room itself could be traversed in fewer than three strides, and much of the floor was occupied by a simple stone bench and what he could only assume had been a shrine in the days when Angelgard served some purpose he knew not. It taunted him, settled beneath an unreachable window as if daring him to attempt his escape. When he could not stand to stare at it a moment longer, he whiled away the hours at the open doorway in wistful contemplation of the distant shore._

 _It was during one of these episodes that she came to him._

 _He knew it was her long before he laid eyes on her beautiful face, the air made thick with icy crystals until his breath obscured his view. Ardyn's lips twitched in a bitter sneer._

 _"Have you come to gloat?"_

 _When she offered no answer, he turned to examine her with sudden distaste. They had shared each other's company in the past when she came to him in dreams. Each of the Six had visited him at night in the days before the Starscourge had arrived in Insomnia; that was how he had learned to use his gifts, great as his own capacity for learning alone may have been. So many hours had been spent hearing tales of ages long past, of prophecies and magic the likes of which had only ever been seen in ancient myths. The nights when_ she _had appeared to him had inarguably been his favorite. Oh, how he had relished their meetings—their exploration into the power of both ring and Crystal. Each time, he had been struck dumb at the sight of her: a goddess bathed in white and silver, turning the air crisp with winter's chill wind. Her grace and beauty had transcended all that Ardyn had ever seen in women who walked the earth and those who lingered in legend alike._

 _Shiva's earthly form was as unremarkable as her Astral figure had been celestial then. Gone were the splendorous adornments of her divinity, replaced by elaborate attire of black and gold; dark hair framed the soft features of her face in ways that her silver locks never would have before. So beautiful, yet so terrible. It only served to remind him of what a fool he had been to prostrate himself before such gods in the past and squander his limited youth in deference to their hypocrisy._

 _If the Glacian was as disgusted by the changes wrought in him by time and reality as he was with her, she failed to indicate her disdain. Oddly, her eyes remained closed as though reluctant to look upon him at all. Perhaps she wished not to see what had become of the great leader who once sat on the throne of Lucis, or maybe she merely sought to comfort him with a seeming lack of judgment. Ardyn was no fool, however, and could sense the latter rolling off her in waves. Ever had Shiva been his ally, yet in the first days of his imprisonment when he had called upon her by name, she had not heeded his summons. To see her here now was nothing more than a grotesque, twisted answer to the prayers he had whispered to the heavens in a moment of panicked weakness._

 _"You come, but you do not look upon me," Ardyn mused, taking a few steps closer to where the Glacian sat unmoving on the stone bench that was his only furnishing. "Am I so ugly to you?"_

 _"The once chosen king bears only the unseemliness of that which he willingly consumed," was Shiva's answer, her voice calm and deadly as the sea that surrounded them on all sides. Her tone, however, was not what piqued Ardyn's interest._

 _"_ Once _chosen? So the Six have indeed forsaken their champion."_

 _"Many years have passed since the former king denounced the gods."_

 _Ardyn laughed, unbothered by the harshness of the sound. "I see. Then this banishment is recompense for what you perceive to be a slight against you?" Shaking his head in feigned disappointment, he added, "Such vindictiveness is not becoming of gods, you know."_

 _"Anger and hate have taken root deep within the once chosen king's heart," Shiva replied. In spite of her words, she was collected as ever. "Where once was compassion now burns only the flame of vengeance."_

 _"Am I not owed that?" inquired Ardyn._

 _The Glacian did not answer. It did nothing to quench the sudden fire that her words had lit in his gut, and he had to grudgingly admire her courage for standing strong even as he stalked towards her._

 _"Do I not have reason for anger and hate when all that was promised to me by yourself and your minions of deceit has been taken? When the Ring of the Lucii betrayed me for the hand of my brother and the gods themselves, so fickle in their blessings, offered the throne to another? And yet you blame_ me _."_

 _The very air seemed to tremble as the ice grew thicker, pricking his skin with its chill. When the Glacian spoke again, there was a threat buried deep beneath her words that would have sent a lesser man to his knees._

 _"Long would the Hexatheon have favored the former king had he remained true to his destined path."_

 _Nodding, Ardyn mocked, "And in my_ straying _, your punishment is to doom the world to darkness. Do you proclaim your intent anything other than malicious in leaving me to rot here?"_

 _"To presume is not the same as to know."_

 _"Oh, but I_ do _," he retorted with an easy smirk. "Is it not the will of the gods that both the Oracle and the Chosen King rid the world of the scourge you yourselves have inflicted upon it? With one imprisoned, the other shall inevitably be overwhelmed. My brother may have usurped the throne, but he cannot wield the power of the one True King. Humanity itself hangs in the balance, yet the Six would rather toil away with revenge? I confess myself distressed with your apparent lack of concern for those whose worship you accept so readily."_

 _As he spoke, the Glacian took measured steps forward and touched a finger to her lips. He did not waver when she reached out to press it to his own, but he should have. In an instant, he was frozen in place, blanketed by a layer of ice that immobilized his limbs more completely than any worldly prison. And when Shiva faced him once more, her eyes opened to reveal pools of darkest green that held the secrets to the universe in their depths._

 _"To you now, Accursed, shall I impart the message of the gods:_

 _"O'er rotted Soil, under blighted Sky, A dread Plague the Wicked has wrought. In the Light of the Gods, Sword-Sworn at his Side, 'Gainst the Dark the King's Battle is fought. From the Heavens high, to the Blessed below, Shines the Beam of a Peace long besought. 'Long live thy Line and these Stones divine, For the Night when All comes to Naught.'"_

 _If he could speak, Ardyn would have pointed out that this prophecy was an old one. The Glacian was not finished, however._

 _"When darkness veils the world, the King of Light shall come."_

 _It happened faster than he could bat an eye: Ardyn was released in time to lunge for her throat, but his hands met naught but the emptiness that had accompanied him every hour since his removal from Insomnia. He whirled around in his rage, searching the four corners of his cell as though she was hiding amidst the sparse stone outcroppings—all to no avail._

 _The Glacian was gone, yet her prophecy would remain for all time._

 _"The King of Light," spat Ardyn, seething. There was no need to maintain his composure, nor was he able to when he shouted to the heavens, "You would replace me!? You would steal my destiny and hand it to some bastard's child!?"_

 _And in that moment, standing alone in his kingdom of stone and iron, Ardyn felt the last spark of faith he had in the Astrals die. It faded into obscurity, renouncing its claim on him and finally setting him free. Stoking its flame, perpetuating the charade was worthless now. Even as he had fought against the twisted fate bestowed upon him by his jealous successor, he had not yet given up all hope, not when the slightest chance existed that perhaps the gods would come to his aid._

 _There was no point now. It was no use. The Six had abandoned him. They had set their sights on another and left him here to decay slower than the walls of his cage would._

 _That, then, would be their fatal mistake._

 _Let their so-called King of Light be born. Let him grow to maturity and ascend the throne, a beacon of hope amidst a lightless kingdom._

 _If he would be the light, then someone would have to be the darkness._

Long live the king.

* * *

 _Perfect._

Ardyn gazed upon his masterpiece as a father would his only child. Such irony was not lost on him, and he could not help but laugh lightly at the idea as he ascended the steps toward the throne— _his_ throne. Everything was in place and ready for the day when darkness and light would clash in one final, predestined battle of the wills. Until then, he would reign over his kingdom as he should have all those long centuries ago.

The esteemed members of his court hung from the ceiling like the limp, lifeless dolls his retainers had resembled no matter which kingdom he ruled.

His Crystal was suspended above the throne, impaled by the chains that should have imprisoned it rather than the king who had once been its slave.

Somewhere in the dark depths of Lucis were three lost souls just waiting to be reunited with their monarch. And the King of Light? Well…

Ardyn bowed deeply to the Crystal before settling himself leisurely onto his throne.

 _Whenever you're ready, Noct._


End file.
